Mending Broken Chains
by Firey-Nii-Wolf
Summary: It was only a simple patrol out in the Channel, Captain Arthur Kirkland never expected to be taken by pirates. With his brother, Peter, at his side, Arthur is willing to face anything to keep him safe. Even if it means sleeping with his lusty French captor who Arthur just might be falling for. The story's actually a lot better the summary sounds. Pirate AU Many pairings inside.
1. Attacked

**_Hello~!_**

**_I decided to come back with a new FrUK story! I probaably should be working in my other stories, yeah, but this story has been in the works for quiet a while._**

**_It's a collab fic between me and Joyheart. We both worked really hard on it so we hope you like it~!_**

**_The smex scenes won't be as graphic as it should be. *coughdamnyoufanfictionbancou gh*_**

**_But~!_**

**_Joyheart is also uploading this story onto her Archive of Our Own account. The link can be found on her profile here;_**

**_ www . fanfiction u / 1622098 / JoyHeart (Just take out the spaces)_**

**_This story includes FrUK, Spamano, GerIta, PruCan, and RusAme _**

**_Well, enjoy~!_**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland narrowed his emerald colored eyes, glaring as he slipped the telescope back into the pocket of his red naval jacket. Damn French pirates, Arthur thought, England already had enough to deal with thanks to it's own English pirates, it could certainly do without the frogs trying to control British waters. If the sea was to fall to piracy Arthur would much rather it fall to the British. Arthur glared at the three French ships in the distance, the beginnings of fear stirring in his heart. Calculations and possibilities flew through his mind as he tried to figure out a way to get out of this pinch he and his crew were in. Of all the thoughts that ran through his head, all of them ended in tragedy. He ran a hand through his short blond hair, sighing.

"Captain, what're your orders?" Alfred F. Jones demanded, coming up behind the British naval general. The young blue-eyed blonde male was his best friend, first mate, and his adopted son. Arthur wanted to give the right orders, it was obvious that Alfred was expecting them as well. Arthur sighed, irritation and anger gushing through his veins. What pissed him off the most was that the damn Frogs had him and his crew outgunned, outnumbered, and would most likely be able to quickly catch up. His thoughts drifted to his youngest brother, Peter Kirkland, who was currently hiding below deck under his orders. Arthur regretted yet again giving into his brother's pleads and sneaking him aboard; he had done it many times before, but Arthur never would have guessed that something like this would happen.

"Captain?"

With a heavy heart, Arthur turned to his first mate, determination flashing in his emerald eyes. If he was going down, then by god he'd go down fighting!

"Prepare to be boarded," Arthur comanded. "We fight, to the death if we bloody well must!"

Alfred smiled widely, the fire in his captain's eyes was infectious and the same fiery determination reflected in Alfred's eyes.

"Aye aye captain!"

The blonde quickly turned, yelling out orders to the men. Arthur cast a doubtful look back at the ships, a sinking feeling in his gut, before following his first-mate

* * *

To the man standing at the bow of the leading pirate ship, it seemed as though God was on the side of the French. Not that this surprised him, it was the case most of the time after all. His long blonde locks of hair blew forward in the breeze in a way he well knew was so sexy that some jealous men might call it obnoxious. The wind was on his side, the waves were of favourable condition as well. Not to mention that the English ship they were rapidly approaching was in no way equipped to fend off an attack from three ships. It was a good day to be a pirate captain, especially one as stunningly attractive as the man at the bow. It was a good day to be Francis Bonnefoy, of this fact he was certain.

"Préparez-vous mes amis, le goût du sang anglais est douce!" (Prepare yourselves my friends, the taste of English blood is sweet!)

His laugh rang over his crew and they roused themselves to action, preparing their swords and making ready the planks for when they would be close enough to board. Francis smiled, perhaps the most luck he had today was that their victim was the English. If there was any on earth he preferred to slaughter and steal from it was them, the British who saw themselves as masters of the seas and rulers of the world, despite not even having the slightest good taste in food or fashion! Be it English of the crown or English pirates, either one looked their best being trampled into the ground with their blood pooling around them as far as the captain was concerned.

"Pardon, mon capitaine!" (Excuse me captain!)

The soft voice of the cabin boy, Matthieu Williams, suddenly came to the captain's attention.

"Ah Matthieu! You know you may call me Papa, non?"

Matthieu's hair was as silky as the captain's, and the boy himself was so cute that Francis couldn't resist stealing him from that seaside village all those years ago. He was still as adorable as ever. It was a good thing that all those years ago Francis had gotten it in his head that Matthieu would be like a son to him, or else he probably would've deflowered the poor boy the second he reached puberty.

At the moment, Matthieu flushed red. "Ah, o-oui, um…well, I was only going to ask…do you suppose I could try to um…try to help attack the English ship? You know, this one time?"

Francis' eyes darkened. "Non, Matthieu it is too dangerous for mon petit chou, you will go below deck as usual. Go!"

Matthieu looked about to protest, but resorted to nodding glumly and making his way through the throng of eager pirates. Francis smiled. The boy did have a spirit in him, he knew better than anyone, but his fair figure was best kept out of such brutality. Finally the English ship was close enough to make out scrambling people aboard it and Francis' grin widened. They would be fools not to know that resistance was pointless. Of course he wouldn't be allowed to kill all of them, his friends Gilbert and Antonio, those captaining the other two ships in his small fleet, had already announced their desire to take some sailors in hopes of selling them as slaves. Admittedly this was a good way to make money, but Francis himself could not see why anyone would want an English slave. What with their poor sense of taste and ridiculously better-than-thou attitudes. Oh, and they were ugly too, beastly creatures. Still, Francis could at least look forward to driving his cutlass straight through the heart of the English captain. He licked his lips as his ship at last came side-along with the English and the cannons were prepared should the English attack.

He opened his mouth and gave the order, "Attaquer!" (Attack)

* * *

"Fire at will!" Arthur screeched, nearly falling over from the sudden impact of the French canons. He drew his cutlass, his men who weren't working the canons gathered right behind him, mimicking their captain in drawing their swords as well.

"For the Queen men, for the Queen!" Arthur shouted, the agreeing shouts from the men behind him filled him with pride. As soon as planks fell on each side of the ship, the English launched into attack. Arthur slashed down anyone within reach, giving in to his more violent side as he decapitated one pirate, then slashed the throat of another. In the back of his mind, he notedthat the invading ships where actually three different races; Spanish, French, and what he assumed to be German. Arthur gave a quick lookaround, pride welling in his body as he saw how good of a resistance his men were putting up.

"Art! Art!"

Arthur's heart dropped when he heard the voice. He swirled around, stabbing and shoving a Spanish man out of his way to see his youngest brother, Peter Kirkland, struggling to hold a cutlass far too heavy for him. The blue-eyed blonde English boy looked determined to try to help, but Arthur couldn't care less. Peter was in danger up on deck.

"Peter go back to my quarters!" Arthur screeched, panic clogging his senses. Peter was the only good thing in his life, and he'd be damned if he let _anyone _hurt Peter.

"Art, I can help!" Peter pleaded. Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but noticed movement behind his brother. Another pirate was moving towards the boy with what seemed like intentions to kill. With a rageful yell, Arthur pulled out his gun and shot the man dead. Peter turned seeing the dead man. Horror and surprised filled his soft blue eyes. Arthur rushed over to him, grabbing Peter by the scruff of his shirt and yanking him up so that Peter's gaze snapped back to his brother.

"Get to my quarters before I fill you with lead too!" Arthur hissed, shoving the boy in the direction after Peter had nodded. Arthur swirled around, his eyes daring around for his next target. A German pirate lunged at him, missing. Arthur expertly recovered and delivered a killing blow. Soon other pirates began launching at him, but the British captain made short work of them. Arthur rammed his cutlass straight through another particularly tall pirate, making Arther curse his short height, when he heard Alfred's familiar voice ring through the ship.

"Fall back! Fall back!"

"What the devil?" Arthur huffed, sliding his cutlass out and letting the dead body fall. Surprise overtook him when he noticed a man who had been standing directly behind the now dead pirate, out of Arthur's field of vision. He was tall, at least in Arthur's mind, with long wavy blonde hair tied back and clear sea blue eyes that gleamed with mischief and something like lust, with stubble growing on his chin. The man wore a thick light blue jacket, a loose white shirt underneath and tight black pants. Around his waist was a gun and an empty sword shaft. In his hand, a sword, pointed directly toward Arthur's chest. The blue eyed pirate smiled, though the smile was more lewd than anything. One of his perfectly formed eyebrows rose in challenge.

"Oh ho, would I be facing the captain of these English pigs?" the pirate laughed, his eyes gleaming. "I must say I expected a bit more of an...intimidating figure, but by the merit of your skills with a sword I have to assume as much? Still you are clearly no match for myself! God is on my side today, after all!"

He chose to stay quiet, sliding into a slight defensive crouch. At that moment another pirate, one with pale skin, white hair and red eyes like a demon, approached from the blue eyed man's left.

"Hey Francis, are you gonna talk or drive your sword through his chest? I want to start taking prisoners already!"

"Patience, Gilbert mon ami, can I not play with my food?"

"Play with it? Kesese, you think he's worth it?"

Francis' grin widened, making Arthur arch an eyebrow.

"Worth it? Well we shall have to see, I always enjoy a good duel!"

His eyes bored into Arthur's green ones, but briefly drifted upwards.

"My what...interesting eyebrows you have Angleterre. Does sea life prevent you from caring for them properly or is it the English fashion to wear them so one looks like a beast?"

"I am indeed the captain of this ship," Arthur growled, tightening his grip on the sword, the eyebrow comment stinging his pride. He pointedly refused to tell them anything other than that. Seeing the the two men's looks, Arthur growled again. "Stupid shit eating frog faces, get the bloody hell off my ship!"

In reality, Arthur knew his ship and crew were doomed, he'd known that from the start, but his protective instinct was currently overrunning his logic. He would _not _allow the damn pirates to find nor harm Peter. Arthur opened his mouth to speak again, but noticed Alfred, who was hiding behind some barrels, from the corner of his eye, aiming a gun at the French standing before him. Arthur drew his lips into a thin line, placing one hand behind his back and rapidly sending Alfred hand symbols. With a curt nod, Alfred pointed toward the white pirate. Arthur focused back on the French pirate, his patience gone. He lunged forward, sending an excellent strike toward the man's leg. Francis, however, was also quite experienced with a sword and quickly parried the blow, leaping backwards slightly to be out of reach before launching forward again, sending an elegant swing of the sword to Arthur's waist, slicing through his belt. There was no intention to kill just yet, if anything Francis seemed to want to humiliate the Englishman before getting to that. Arthur felt his face heating red as his uniform pants began top sag, he gripped them, quickly dodging all of the slashes aimed for his pants, blindly swinging his sword.

"Kesese!" Gilbert laughed, but it was then he happened to glance toward the barrels sitting nearby and his laughter faded. He frowned and began to search the deck. Then his eyes locked to something and he grinned again. "Hey Antonio! Way to have my back!"

"Hola amigo! You know the only one sending a bullet through your chest is me!" The tall Spanish man with chestnut coloured hair smiled calmly as he walked towards the barrels, his own gun aimed surely at the head of the man hidden there.

"Tch, that's not nice..." Gilbert pouted, folding his arms as he returned to watching Francis try his best to slice the Englishman's pants off of him.

Faintly hearing this, Arthur flicked his green eyes toward Alfred, the green orbs widening when he saw Alfred with his hands on his head, a Spanish pirate aiming a gun to the back of Alfred's head. Arthur growled, his eyes glancing toward his cabin with slight worry before looking back at the french pirate trying to slice off his pants. Francis seemed to notice the sudden flicker of his foe's eyes and he chanced a glance the same direction. Returning to exchanging blows with Arthur he decided to taunt him again.

"Oh, would the English captain be hiding his whore away from us? I hope you left her with a loaded pistol, because that is the only way she will escape pleasing the rest of my crew, non?"

"In the cabin?"

Gilbert turned toward it now, sending panic through Arthur's system.

"You want me to check it out, Fran?"

"Later mon ami, it will still be here when I'm done..."

"Well hurry up!"

"Non! Look at his face, he's going as red as a cherry, it's adorable!" Francis practically giggled, now tearing through pieces of Arthur's shirt. Arthur yelped, batting Francis's sword away.

"Phht," Gilbert snickered. "I never thought you'd call an Englishman 'adorable'."

"Hmm," Francis frowned, sending a harder swing toward Arthur's arm. However this one was uncalculated and did little more than leave an opening for Arthur to open a shallow wound across his right arm. Scowling, Francis switched his sword to his left hand.

"Perhaps you ought to check the cabin now after all, mon ami, if you are so bored."

"Right!" Gilbert cackled and headed for the cabin door.

"NO!" Arthur screamed. He abandoned his sword and fight with Francis, lunging toward Gilbert. He flung himself onto the man, sending fierce hard punches. "NO! NO! NO!"

"Ah! Little bastard! Nein! Geddoff!" Gilbert flailed about, taken by surprise by the sudden attack from the Englishman.

"Oh my! It seems the Englishman _is_ hiding his little whore from us!" Francis' grin darkened, eyes narrowing as Arthur raised a knife that he had pulled out from his jacket.

"Non!" He said simply as he snatched a heavy piece of splintered wood from the ground and swung it heavily into the back of Arthur's head, sending him unconscious to the ground.

"Damn it, that short bastard had some arm to him." Gilbert rubbed his back as Antonio roared with laughter from his place as he watched the scene while some of his men tie Alfred's hands behind his back.

"Still does, I think," Francis said quietly, feeling for Arthur's pulse. "He still lives."

Gilbert struggled to his feet and sighed. "Well finish him off then! You want me to check the cabin?"

"Oui, that would be best," Francis said quietly as he flipped Arthur onto his back with his boot and prepared his sword. Gilbert walked off to do just that, swiftly making his way to the cabin.

"Hey, there's a kid in here!" Gilbert said suddenly. Francis paused.

"A child? Girl or boy?"

"A boy, he has the same bushy brows as the captain, think they're probably related or something," Gilbert grinned at the frightened teary-eyed boy inside. "Hey kid, that your dad out there? Too bad Fran's gonna kill him, huh?"

"Non."

"Uh?" Gilbert turned in surprise. Antonio had even ceased his endless smile.

"Amigo, are you feeling alright?" The Spainard asked, looking confused.

"I am fine." A small smile tugged at Francis' lips. "I think...I think I will bring him with me. And best bring the boy as well."

"But why?" Gilbert asked, looking a bit dejected.

Francis smirked and swept the hair from his eyes that had flattened to his forehead with sweat. Sexy sweat though, of course.

"I think I would like to see his humiliated facer a bit more before I kill him. But of course he would be difficult. I think the boy could be good...leverage..."

To this explanation, Francis' friends grinned. That was the Frenchman they knew and loved.

"Come, mon ami, I believe you wished to collect slaves?"

"HERE HERE!" came a loud cheer from across the boat.

Peter stared at his unconscious brother, tears streaming down his face. His heart was thumping with fear as he struggled against the pale pirate's grip in order to get closer to his brother. Arthur needed help.

"Pete, calm down," Alfred soothed from where he was tied. "Artie's fine."

Peter only glanced at him before staring back at his brother, willing Arthur to wake up, to get up and fight. His view was blocked as the French pirate stepped in front of him, smiling in a sickly sweet way. Peter bit his lip, his heart pounding louder. He needed to be brave, needed to be like his brother.

"S-Stupid jerk Frog!" Peter snapped, trying to imitate his brother's feriocity, but failing greatly due to the fear radiating in his blue eyes and tears streaming down his face. Francis' smile broke into a dark grin as he grasped Peter's hair, tugging his head sharply back.

"Ah, so you are the child of the captain? It's true there is a family resemblance around those beastly eyebrows. Ah, but you still have a youthful innocence about you..."

"Ne, yo Fran, Toni's supposed to be the pedophile!" Gilbert snorted, still holding Peter by the back of his shirt.

"Hey! I'm not a pedophile, Lovino was an exception!"

"Kesese! And his little brother?"

"I never did anything to him!"

"You wanted to!"

"Enough!" Francis scowled. "I have no intention of touching this boy in such a way! Though he might be a nice servant for Matthieu until I've finished playing with my dear Angleterre."

Francis' smile returned, but this time a little less creepy. Still, it was enough to freak out the young Briton, so Peter kept his guard up.

"Matthieu is my petit fils, you will get along quite well I'm sure, if you don't want your father to experience more pain than needed of course..."

Peter swallowed, afraid for himself and for his hid brother. They were both hopeless at the hands of these pirates. And that was enough to make Peter bow his head in defeat.

* * *

**_Short chapter is short chapter._**

**_I'll update once a week, probably on Fridays._**

**_However~! Reviews make me a happy Authoress and usually make me willing to give another chapter._**

**_So, review~!_**


	2. Separated

**_Here's the next chapter~! Thank you so much to all those who favored, followed, and reviewed!_**

**_It makes me so happy._**

**_Here you go~!_**

* * *

Alfred watched in sickened horror as Arthur had fall unconscious. He had been unable to do a thing with the damn Spaniard holding a gun to his head, and now his arms were firmly bound behind his back. It was humiliating to be surprised in such a way. Alfred hadn't noticed the other man at all, too focused on rescuing Arthur.  
He was admittedly afraid, who wouldn't be at the hands of pirates? Despite that, he still managed to get out some words of comfort to Arthur's brother Peter, who looked as sick with worry as Alfred felt. They both had been bound and made to kneel in the center of their ship with their other captured crewmates. Arthur had been taken to one side and Francis was making sure to keep the limp body close enough to himself to keep an eye on in case it stirred. Alfred leaned closer to Peter as the boy shook and whispered to him.

"Don't worry Peter; everything's going to be fine. We'll get out of this. Once we're on the pirates' ship together we'll start planning a mutiny, okay? And Artie will help us when he wakes up. Right?"

Peter stared up at his brother's best friend with teary eyes. The determined look on the other's face made Peter nod, wiping his tears on his shirt as best he could since he was tied up.

"For Art," Peter agreed. "We need to save my brother!"

"Yeah, we'll be heroes! Sounds good, huh?" Alfred smiled encouragingly. The smile faded somewhat as the conversation that the three pirate captains drifted over to his ears. Another pirate had just run up too them and announced that there were definitely no other people on the ship left alive apart from the captives on deck. The French pirate grinned at this news.

"Bon! So we can divide them up now I suppose? Well you all know who I'm taking." Francis gave a meaningful look in Arthur's direction. "And his petit fils as well. But otherwise I don't really care about any in particular, you know how I generally feel about English slaves after all. Gilbert?"

Francis gave a look asking him if he had any special requests.

"Ah, ya know it really doesn't matter to me either Francis," Gilbert replied, carelessly shrugging his shoulders. "So long as they work and do as they're told, they won't die."

His ruby eyes scanned the deck, landing on the larger and buffer looking English.

"West might've mentioned something about needing gunners though," Gilbert said, scratching his head.

Peter's eyes widened, hearing the conversation. He whimpered and burried his face into Alfred's shomach, whimpering fearfully.

"I don't want to go with the Frog," Peter whispered. "He's disgusting."

Alfred winced and tried hugging Peter by curling around him. It seemed to calm him down a bit.

"Yeah, he is isn't he? But you know you've got to be brave now huh? I know you've got the guts to get through this alright, and you'll still be with Artie and me, so just stick close to us okay?"

Meanwhile the pirates were still in conversation. Francis nodded to Gilbert and turned to the third captain. "And you, Antonio, anything of interest?"  
The Spanish man scratched at his chin thoughtfully as he surveyed the captives.

"Hmm...well I do need someone strong to help out around the ship. And someone young preferably..."

Francis grinned. "Your tastes will never change, non?"

Antonio flushed. "I told you, I have Romano, he's enough! I mean young as in someone who can work long periods of time in the sun without having heart failure! Anyway, where's the one I...oh there!"

Antonio smiled brightly again and pointed straight at Alfred, who blinked in confusion.

"That one will do great!"

"Oui that's fine. It's best if he's on a different ship then his captain anyway I think. And Gilbert can have a few of the stronger looking ones for his guns. The rest we shall divide and put below deck for sale in port. Food and material goods we will of course divide evenly as well."

As the captains worked out the finer points of how they would divide their booty, Alfred bit his lip and looked down at Peter.

"Alright so...I'm on the other ship, but you've still got Artie and..." Seeing the rising hysteria and panic in Peter's eyes, he nudged Peter into a half hug again.

"Peter, Peter, it's totally going to be fine, you'll see! These guys seem like friends of some kind so they'll probably sail together a while and so," Alfred's voice dropped, "And so whenever they pull into a port to sell our crewmates, we can pull off a heroic escape and rescue! Sounds good?"

Peter looked up into Alfred's determined blue eyes and nodded. He looked over at his unconscious older brother before staring up at Alfred.

"Al? Why does the Frog want my brother so badly?" Peter asked, nervous of the answer he would receive.

"Um..." Alfred swallowed a bit and wouldn't look Peter in the eye. If Peter knew that they wanted to use him against Arthur, the boy would loose innocence that Arthur always seemed insistent on protecting. "No idea."

As the two spoke, the other pirates in the three crews began roughly dragging captives to their feet to begin walking them across planks to other ships. Soon, shadows fell over Alfred and Peter, making the two look up, only to have their vision was obscured by Francis and Antonio. Gilbert was already picking out the men he would use at his guns. Francis gave a sick grin to Peter.

"Time to say goodbye to your friend, non?"

The Spanish man frowned. "That's a bit mean Francis, I mean if they're both working for us they'll probably see each other again..."

"Oui, perhaps, but I wouldn't have that happen anytime soon. We don't want them...planning anything..."

Peter glared at the French, burring his face in Alfred's shoulder before looking up at him.

"Don't forget us," Peter whispered to Alfred. "Art and I are depending on you!"

Alfred smiled once last time toward Peter as Antonio dragged him to his feet.

"You know it I won't let you down, Pete!"

With a wink, he let Antonio lead him toward the gangplank on the left side of the ship. Most of his crewmates were already being led across as well. Once they were locked away the pirates would begin looting for materials and then...then they would probably sink the ship. Unless they chose to put some men on it to drive her to shore to be stripped of wood and sold piece by piece. But it was too dangerous to sail a ship from the British navy, and bad luck to redesign and rename her. Alfred thought about these things to distract himself as he was led away from Peter, whom he knew would be hauled aboard the French pirate's ship momentarily. Antonio snapped him from his thoughts by speaking to him, suddenly.

"Inglēs, welcome to my ship, el Tomate Hermosa!" ((The Beautiful Tomato)) The Spaniard grinned. "My Lovi named her after my last ship sank. Isn't it the most wonderful name?"

Antonio wore starry eyed expression for a moment before becoming serious. "Your duties will be to keep the ship's deck clean, keep the canons in working order, and...well, we'll see how you do with those first. What did you do on the English ship?"

"AW! I got stuck with stupid chores!" Alfred groaned. He glared at the Spanish man before sighing and answering the question.

"I was first mate to Captain Kirkland," he replied, his voice welling with pride. Antonio's smile quickly returned.

"Oh, so you're literate, maybe good with numbers? Estupendo! You can help taking inventory too! I really hate doing it because it's so dull but the only ones besides me who can really do it are my two Italians and my own first mate. But Lovino rarely helps and even if Feliciano's literate he makes a lot of mistakes, and even with Miguel helping it still takes forever..."

With a sigh, Antonio began showing Alfred around the deck. Alfred let his mind wander, tuning out the Spanish captain as he was too absorbed in scooping out around the deck of the ship before heading down under deck to where the supplies were held. In the room, they came across a man only a bit younger than Antonio.

"Miguel! Look, I got a slave to help out with inventory! Isn't that great?" Antonio smiled at his first mate.

The other man bore a resemblance to Antonio, their hair was the same shade. But Miguel's hair hung down further, a bit past his ears, and his own eyes weren't as wide and innocent-looking as Antonio's. They were brown too, and his skin was more tanned. Altogether he seemed like a slightly shorter, darker version of the Spanish captain. Alfred briefly glanced at the man before him before turning his attention back to the large cargo hold. Miguel frowned a bit at Antonio's words.

"I don't know...how do you know he won't screw it up just to mess with us?"

Antonio shrugged.

"Well, if he does, he can just do more hard labour, si? Oh!" He turned to Alfred. "This is my Portuguese cousin and first mate, Miguel! And Miguel this is...er..."

Antonio frowned. "Um, what's your name, then?"

Realizing he was being addressed, he snapped back to reality. The sheer size of the ship underneath had shocked the young man. He blinked before remembering the question.

"Oh! My name is Alfred," Alfred chirped happily. "Alfred F. Jones. Born in good ol' America!"

He looked around a it, scanning the place again, his eyes lingering on the small portholes. He turned back to the Spaniard, a disbelieving look in his eyes.

"So your seriously going to let me count the crap in here?" he questioned. "Sounds risky, but cool at the same time."

"Si, well, what can you steal anyway, being a prisoner right? It's not as if you're allowed to leave the ship or anything. Oh right! Miguel, we need some ankle chains!"

Alfred stared at Miguel for a bit, sizing him up before breaking out in a large smile. Miguel glanced at Alfred's smiling face, which reminded him very much of his captain's. He grimaced at the thought of two of them.

"Miguel?"

"Er, right that makes sense. Yes sir." With a nod, Miguel headed off toward the door that the other Englishmen had disappeared through before on their way to the brig. Alfred raised an eyebrow after Miguel left.

"Hmmmm. Looks like I can have some fun before the Hero saves everyone!" Alfred murmured to himself, smiling wider. "It's not Arthur's ship, but it'll do."  
3/19

"Ah? What was that?" Antonio looked at Alfred curiously, but Miguel had returned quite quickly.

"Here, sir," Miguel said, handing his captain the chains.

"Ah, bueno! Now hold still Alfred F Jones," Antonio gave another strong smile and bent over to attach the chains to his captive's ankles. Alfred's smile immediately fell, his lips curling downward in a scowl. After the Spanish man had clasped them around his legs, he took an experimental step forward, falling flat on his face.

"Stupid chains!" Alfred wailed, rolling on his back and flailing childishly. "I can't walk Mr. Captain dude sir!"

"Sure you can! You just need to take smaller steps!" Antonio laughed. "Well, have fun swabbing the deck! Miguel, I leave him to you!"

"To me? But-" Miguel tried to protest, but Antonio was already striding away confidently. Miguel sighed and scratched his head, looking down at Alfred.

"Alright Alfred, get up, I have to show you where the mop is."

Alfred let his childish act drop, jumping to his feet without any help. He turned and smiled sweetly, a hint of darkness underneath it.

"Alright!" Alfred laughed. "Hey, you mad? Are you mad that you got stuck with me?"

Miguel frowned slightly at the American before pulling a more exhausted face.

"Well, it's not as if it's completely unexpected. I mean, he's the captain; it's natural that he'd delegate but I'm the first mate! I mean, you were a first mate, is training slaves the job of a first mate? No! But I can't expect Toni to think like that."

With a sigh, Miguel walked behind Alfred and untied his hands. "There, so if you fall you don't break your nose. And don't bother trying anything. You're unarmed and if you aren't afraid of punishment you'd receive yourself know that we can find someone else to punish in your place if we have to." Miguel said this almost mechanically, as if he'd had to make such a speech before. Then he gestured for Alfred to follow him and headed to a corner of the deck with a crate tucked into it. Alfred snorted. The only other two people in the world living that he cared about the most where Peter and Arthur. Luckily, they where on another ship and were probably untouchable at the moment.

"Must hate your job," Alfred chuckled, following Miguel with ease, as though he where used to chains. "Artie _always_ gave me my rightful power, and the crew never fucked with me, cause Artie's an animal when he's pissed. Guess it comes from being raised by abusive older brothers."

Alfred chuckled sadly, his blue eyes softening. "My own brother is dead, so I can't remember what it felt like."

After a moment, Alfred had realized all that he had given away, making him smack his hands over his mouth.

"You heard nothing!" Alfred hissed. "Fuck! Artie's gonna kick my ass to the moon and back!"

Miguel gave Alfred a backwards glance and shrugged.

"Well what've you told me? That my job sucks? Knew it. That yours was better? Expected it. That your captain gets mad? HA! If you want to see mad..." Miguel shook his head. "Toni is usually carefree but if you push hard enough..."

Miguel paused and shuddered.  
"Anyway. Otherwise you've said your captain had abusive older brothers and yours is dead. So basically I know that you care about your captain, perhaps like a brother, which is fine and all except he's on another ship and probably untouchable for now. For now. But I'm sure you don't want to make us fed up to the point we just sell you off with the other Englishmen so that you probably won't see him again, right?"

Miguel left that thought hanging as he opened the crate in front of him, revealing a mop, a bucket, a broom and rags. Alfred mulled over all that Miguel had told him, a thoughtful look over his face.

"Cleaning supplies, I assume you know how to use them?"

Alfred looked at the items, smiled, and grabbed the cleaning supplies.

"In that case, I gotta be SO bad at cleaning, I'll get sent to the next ship!" Alfred grinned widely, completely ignoring Miguel's warning. At least pretending to, he just really wanted to annoy Miguel. He swiftlty turned and tried taking off, but promptly fell on his face.

"My leg! My leg!"

"What?" Miguel walked over and looked at the flailing body. "You didn't even hit your leg, idiot. Get up. Anyway, if you don't clean properly you won't be sent to the next ship, you- with your boyish good looks- will likely get sold to some pervert or else a brothel when we get to port. If you're lucky, or unlucky I guess, someone might decide they prefer you for your muscles and use you chained up somewhere as hard manual labour. Kind of like we're doing, but hell, you could be down a mine shaft. The point is, it would suck. Now get up, man up, and swab the fucking deck. It's not that hard, and if you do a good job you get to eat tonight. If you do a poor job you can go hungry. If you don't do it, you get no food and also ten lashes with a whip. Sound fair to you?"

"But I hurt my leg," Alfred pouted, quickly jumping to his feet. "Phf, not like I haven't been in labor before."

With a huff, he walked off, perfectly able to walk in the chains. He heading up in the direction of the deck.

"I demand a raise!"

Miguel frowned, unsure exactly what to make of this new slave. Still, if he screwed up enough for a few punishments he should quiet down fast enough.

"Just make sure the work gets done!" Miguel shouted before heading to help take inventory of the loot from the English ship. Alfred stopped his march however as a head of brown hair with a wayward curl and a smiling face attached ran past him and hurried toward Miguel.

"Ve~ Miguel! How did the looting go? Lovino said you'd all get yourselves killed but I think he was trying to worry me for no reason...oh well, did you get anything good?" The man spoke fast with an Italian accent, looking far too excited in Miguel's opinion. Alfred just looked amused by the Italian.

"Feliciano, what are you- Antonio told you to stay in the kitchens until he went and got you! Shouldn't you be cooking anyway?"

Feliciano pouted. "But, I already knew you were back from the noise ve~. And dinner's just simmering now, I have time to see-oh who's this?"

The Italian raced toward Alfred like a shot. "Ciao! I'm Feliciano, the cook of the ship! Who are you? Are you new? I haven't seen you before so you must be!"

Alfred blinked and smiled happily.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones," he said brightly. "I am indeed new! Just been recruited from Cap Artie's ship!"

"That's great!" Feliciano said brightly. The two began walking up the stairs, leaving Miguel down in the cargo hold. "Vee~ you'll like it here! Everyone's really friendly, and I make sure the food is always very good too! I hope you like pasta~ Oh, the pasta! I have to go stir it, I hope you get settled in well and tell me all about your first day later! Byyye!"

With this enthusiastic greeting, Feliciano hurried back toward the door leading under the ship, only to run smack into a nearly identical boy. Although the boy he ran into was slightly taller, with slightly darker hair and complexion. He also wore a scowl as dark as Feliciano's smile was bright.

"You bastardos! What's the matter with you making so much noise up here? I'm trying to take a siesta damn it but I guess you don't give a damn about that! Well, let me- Feliciano what're you doing up here? Go finish the food damn it it's going to burn!"

Feliciano gasped. "No it won't! I'm always careful with pasta vee~ Oh! Here, you have to meet Alfred! He's new to the ship! Say hi!"

"What? I don't want to say hi to some- FELI-!" the other Italian protested in vain as Feliciano dragged him over to Alfred as well, who was only pretending to mop the deck.

"Ciao again Alfred! Here, this is my tough big brother Lovino! He seems like a jerk, but he's actually just really shy!" Feliciano gushed. Lovino's cheeks lit up red as tomatoes.

"C-chigi! Don't say that! I'm not shy!" Even as he spoke, Lovino's eyes were searching for an escape route. Somehow their made their way down and saw Alfred's ankles. Lovino scoffed and hit Feliciano over the head. "Idiot! He wasn't recruited, he was captured as a slave!"

"Ow!" Feliciano held his head and whined. "I-I'm sorry Lovino! But...really? Oh, I see the chains now. Well...even so, that's fine! I mean, that's how me and Lovino started out on the ship too, but now we really love it here!"

"Speak for yourself, bastard!"

Alfred blinked, staring at the two Italians curiously. He laughed and ruffled both their hairs, smiling widely.

"You two are cute," Alfred said simply. "As much as I'd LOVE to say and talk with you guys, I need to go check something."

Seeing the smiling and contrasting frowning faces had reminded him of Arthur and Peter. Being reminded of them made him remember his promise to Peter.

"Oh, okay! Ciao!" Feliciano waved happily before heading back to the door heading below deck, passing Miguel who was busy with the loot. Lovino, however, remained and glared at Alfred as he had done the second his hair had been ruffled though his blush was diminishing now.

"What do you mean you have something to check, bastardo? You just got here and it looks like you're supposed to be doing chores or something!" Lovino's cheeks puffed out. Alfred smiled and ruffled Lovino's hair again.

"Ya know, you remind me so much of Artie!" he laughed. "But still, don't worry! My business is my business!"

"Quit doing that, bastard!" Lovino snapped, covering his head with his hands. "Anyway, if you're doing something weird then...well...chigi, whatever. Burn the damn ship down, it's that stupid tomato bastard's fault leaving you unsupervised anyway. I'm leaving."

This huffed out, the Italian turned on his heel and stormed away after his brother, leaving Alfred to his own devices. Alfred smiled and headed around, began his work.

A comotion from the ship next-door made Alfred look up from cleaning. A flash of white, blue, and blonde made Alfred smile. Peter was running around the deck, twisting and dodging the hands of the crew expertly. The child was magnificent when dodging capture, his survival instincts completely compelling the boy's movements. Alfred watched, laughing when the French captain tripped in his attempt to catch the quick English boy. Even if he they were trapped in such a situation, Alfred knew that he and the British brothers would give these pirates a good bit of hell before the end!


	3. Chapter 3

I hate to do this, but obviously this fanfiction account has been abandoned. If you wish to read the rest of this fic, Joyheart has more of our joined story up on ArchiveofOurOwn.

Here is the link, hopefully it works_  
_

_ works / 488226 / chapters / 851671_

Please enjoy what we have joined together to create, and enjoy the story as Joyheart ends it the way she wants to.

~Firey Nii Wolf


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